Letters to Yomi
by Eveilae
Summary: [shoujoai] On these sheets of paper I can explain to you what I’m really like what I really feel what I really want to say. Things like I’m gay, or I think my nose is too big. Or I think I love you.[tomoyomi]
1. Dear Yomi

_I do not own Azumanga Daioh._

**Written for the 31 Days LJ community (theme:** Anno mirabilis / Year of Wonders**) . My first loverly AMD fic, too. Set in their junior year. Spelling mistakes have been made on purpose.**

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Letters to Yomi**

Dear Yomi,

This is my secret letter to you. I bet you didn't know about _this_, Miss I'm-Soo-Smart. Ha, now _I_ have the uppar hand, missy. You will never know the pile of letter I've been writing to you since childhood. The past few years, I've been doing it around New Years.

I live my life from day to day. I'd almost call it my moto, but I don't read into things—like myself—too much. Ethier I don't like to, or I can't. You do all that kind of stuff for me, I guess.

Anyway, I'm going somewhere with this, yeah.

So the idea of a whole year passing by is nearly impassible for me to imagine. Maybe this is why I started doing this to begin with, eh? Probabaly not.

To tell you the truth, I doubt you really know me. I mean, we've been friends since the begginning of time, but still, all you know is my loudmouth side. That's the largest side of me, sure, but it's not all of me.

This is why I wright you letters. On these sheets of paper I can explain to you what I'm _really_ like; what I really feel; what I really want to say. Things like _I'm gay_, or _I think my nose is too big_. Or _I think I love you_.

You're the smart one. Well, then, why didn't you calaculate this? You take the tests, and you figure out all the right answers. Well, why couldn't you figure _me_ out?

You see why I never actually _give_ you these letters? I don't have a way with words. Fuck it, I can't even spell right most of the time. Chiyo-chan probably can write poetry half-asleep.

Did I ever tell you that sometimes I'm _so_ jealous of Chiyo-chan? Mostly because I think that maybe if I were _her_ insteed of myself, you would like me. I could talk to you about smartass stuff and you'd be proud to be my friend (girlfriend?). I could make you something for your birthday and Christmas, and you'd give me a sinceer, greatful smile.

I think its the _snow_. It's infecting my brain with its coldness and whiteness, which is making my brain spout funny things like _I like Yomi_ and _let's wright her a letter_. I should buy a gianthuge flame thrower and _burn down all the snow_. MUAHAHAHAHA!

Now, for my annuall list. Things You've Done To Drive Me Up A Wall This Year:

1. You told me in the spring how you though this boy was really cute, and kept saying things like _do you think he though I was pretty?_ And just to piss you off I mentioned the udon you ate.  
2. You're not fat (I wright this every year).  
3. You keep your hair so long. I want run my hands through it so much they aeck.  
4.Ate all the ice cream at my house in the summer when we had sleepovers.  
5. You don't think you're absolootly gorgious.  
6. You called me a _idiot with the feelings of a plank of wood _on your birthday. My feelings are large and . . . plentiful?

I can't (don't want to?) think about thisany more, because instead ofthis list making me want to tear off an arm or an ear of yours, it's making me want to call you just to hear the sound of your always-exasperated voice.

Your right. I am an idiot. If I had any brains, I would know that it's stupid and pointless to love you. The reasons are plenty. I'll just get depressed if I pick some out specifically.

This letter is making me depressed _period_. Have a great New Year, Yomi.

Love, Tomo.


	2. Dear Tomo

_I do not own Azumanga Daioh._

**Written for the 31 Days challenge of August 21_: Who would take us to be women?_ This is a sequel to Letters to Yomi. Keep in mind that sequels are never as good as the original xD**

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Letter to Tomo**

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Dear Tomo,

I don't what this thing is, this sheet laying on my table. It's in your handwriting, which I know oh so very well, after watching you carefully copy my homework day after day.

Is it true? Do you write me a letter every year? If so, then I really _don't_ understand you.

Why would someone like _you_ like me? You're everything I'm not, and vice versa. I'm smart, you're not; I've got bigger boobs than you; I'm taller than you; you're neverendingly energetic; you're fickle. I could go on forever. We have nothing in common.

How did we end up together? Of course I remember the day, but I still can't figure out for the life of me _why _it happened. You just come up to me, the new girl, and ask me if I'm smart. I was nine and more than a little confused by your sudden appearance, so I just said that I didn't know. You asked me if I did my homework, and I told you I did.

You know what, I take it back. I know _why_ it happened. You were too lazy even back then to make an effort. Who knew that you're laziness could come in handy.

Because it did. I'm glad—sometimes—that you're my friend. You were there when both my parents were out working, and going to business meetings, and company parties. You, too, knew about living alone in your house while your parents went off to work, so we never had to explain those things to one another.

One time, we were both at my house, and you were looking through my parent's cabinets for alcohol you were always _convinced_ was there, and you suddenly turned to me. Your face was so serious it shocked me for a second, and when you spoke, I couldn't even think up a witty response.

_Yomi, who will take us to be women?_

What an odd question. I never thought about it, really, and I simply answered _I don't know_, because in truth I didn't know. Then you kept on looking and I went back to the book I had been reading.

I know now. We took each other. Together we grew up, knowing the good and the bad. We found out about sex together, we found out about music and drugs together. We're going to be women together.

None of this explains why you like me. No, why you _love_ me. Why couldn't you _talk_ to me about these things instead of bottling them up inside so that you explode? Did these stupid letters ever really help? You would just stuff them under your mattress or whatever, but that wouldn't have ever helped.

Tomo, I'm your friend, no matter how much we rile each other up. You're the one person that's always, _always _been there for me. The others don't know, can't know, because if they did then what we have together wouldn't be wholly ours, but partly theirs, and I don't want that.

I know _you_ don't want that, selfish as you are. I'm not going to drag this on, because after all, you do have a fairly short attention span. I'm going to call you right now, and ask if I can come over (I know your parents are gone for the week). Then we're going to go up to your room, I'm going to kiss you, give you this letter and run.

Wish me luck.

Love, Yomi.


End file.
